


i love with my throat exposed

by wollfgang



Category: L.A. By Night (Web Series)
Genre: Angry Sex, Established Relationship, Eva is mad, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post-Episode: s04e02, Sexual Content, Vampires, did not think my first contribution to the fandom would be smut but here we are, why fight when you can make out instead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:46:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22729360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wollfgang/pseuds/wollfgang
Summary: She doesn't want to think about that. About his martyrish tendencies, about a world without him in it. She doesn't want to think at all.She shudders into a Blush, not even caring if it rouses the Beast. Heat suffuses her limbs; her dead heart stutters rapidly in her chest."Is this- are we doing this?" he asks. He's clearly not opposed. His hands coast up her pale thighs, crumpling the velvet of her skirt."Yes," she hisses.“Are you sure-” he starts, the rest cut off by the hard slant of her mouth against his.
Relationships: Eva/Jasper Heartwood
Comments: 20
Kudos: 73





	i love with my throat exposed

Eva is still in the library when he returns—she can feel the distant shiver of magic as Jasper slips past her wards. She’s added a half-dozen in his absence. Dried vitae still flecks her forearms, darkens the creases of her fingers. She’s too tired and too upset to care. 

He smells of wet pavement and dirt and blood. “There you are.” He’s removed his boots, eliminating a scant inch of their height difference. Her jaw clenches. 

Jasper looks at the pile of crumpled blood bags on the desk. They're empty. Drained and then torn open to lick at any dregs left behind. He easily connects the dots. Slowly, telegraphing his intentions, he takes her wrist and pulls her arm toward him, examining it. There’s no evidence of how many times she sliced open her own flesh—the wounds already sealed shut. His thumb coasts over skin. If she were human, she thinks her skin would break out into goosebumps, but she isn’t, and there’s no physiological reaction to his touch over her pale flesh. 

“Are you okay?” His nearly colorless eyes flick up to her while she does her best to focus on the rows of book spines behind him. 

“No.” She takes in an unnecessary inhalation. “We’re as safe as I can make us for tonight.” 

He glances down at his feet. “Thank you.” 

She nods, pulls her arm towards herself, prompting him to release her. It’s late, or rather, _early_ , and things didn’t go in any direction she would have liked tonight. His hands flex at his sides, but he makes no move to stop her as she straightens from where she’d been leaning against the desk.

“I’m sorry,” Jasper murmurs as she brushes past. 

She halts. Anger churns in her gut. “I don't want you to be sorry, Jasper.” 

“I-” he stops. Starts again. “I know I’ve upset you. That what happened today wasn’t- wasn’t what either of us wanted.”

She huffs out a humourless laugh. So much for an evening of just the two of them, unravelling puzzles together. First Kyoko and Greg, then _fucking Strauss_ and his gargoyle. Her lip twists with loathing.

“I hate him. I hate that _his_ servant is down there.” Her hands tremble with unspent violence, and the air smells sharply of ozone.

“We’ll kill it,” Jasper promises, low and insistent. “No matter what it takes.” 

It should bother her—she wishes it would bother her—but she only feels the low thrill of promised destruction. As much as she wants to reduce that creature to gravel, his statement makes her shake her head. 

“No. No, we talked about this, about being smarter, _safer_.”

“I won’t let him make you feel threatened in your own home.” Jasper’s voice catches and cracks with menace. "I don't care if I have to go down there with a sledgehammer myself."

Fury sparks like dry kindling. “You can’t keep throwing yourself into danger like it doesn’t _matter_ , Jasper!”

“What else would you have me do?” He’s angry now too, voice raised, teeth bared. “Because when it comes down to it, protecting where we live, protecting _you_ , is always going to come first for me.”

She kisses him, punishing and hard. 

She’s still angry with him. Her ire bubbles up, relentless as she snarls between kisses. “I don’t. Need you. To protect me.” 

He gives as good as he gets, returning the biting pressure, kissing her with just as much intensity. His fingers tangle in her hair, swept along in the storm of her ferocity.

"If I can't protect you," he snaps when they break apart, "then what is _the point of me_?"

The fact that he thinks that's all he is—that throwing himself in front of danger is all he's good for—ignites an indignation that takes her nonexistent breath away. What kind of sanctimonious _bullshit-_

She shoves him.

He stumbles backward, one arm reaching blindly for his chair, half falling as she pushes him down into it. He looks up at her, a little startled, a little hungry in a way that has nothing to do with blood. 

"The _point_ of you, Jasper?" she growls and straddles his lap. "If you think for one second I would _use_ you like that." She shoves his hood back, runs fingers across his smooth scalp.

"That's not what I meant." His hold on her tightens, his not-quite claws digging in just a little bit before he reins himself in. "I'm a _monster_. I do bad things, Eva, it's- it's what I'm good at. If I can use that to keep you safe, then it will have been worth it. All of it."

She doesn't want to think about that. About his martyrish tendencies, about a world without him in it. She doesn't want to think at all.

She shudders into a Blush, not even caring if it rouses the Beast. Heat suffuses her limbs; her dead heart stutters rapidly in her chest. 

"Is this- are we doing this?" he asks. He's clearly not opposed. His hands coast up her pale thighs, crumpling the velvet of her skirt. 

" _Yes_ ," she hisses. 

“Are you sure-” he starts, the rest cut off by the hard slant of her mouth against his. Her tongue flicks over the point of his fang. He groans in response, hands spanning out and gripping. Arousal seizes her, low and throbbing. She rocks in his lap, trying to find friction. 

If the blood that pumps in her veins were more than a temporary affectation, this position would be uncomfortable. But they're not creatures concerned with comfort. She doesn't care, and from the way Jasper is kissing her, cold hands slipping higher, he clearly doesn't either.

"Please," she gasps. 

His hand slips between her legs. He pauses at the first touch of her heat, already soft and slick.

"You're not..." _wearing underwear_ , he doesn't say.

"I hadn't -ah- expected company to be joining us tonight," she retorts. Her plans for a date night in the Labyrinth alone together were smashed fairly early. 

“ _Fuck_.” He rumbles deep in his chest at the realization. “Did I mention how much I love this dress?” His touch is careful. 

She doesn't want careful. She grips his shoulders tightly, her hips moving in little circles, eliciting greater contact. “Tell me again.”

He presses his nose to the lines of dark lace that wrap around her throat and uses his free hand to pull her closer. “I love this dress,” he says against her skin like it’s a confession. The low gravel of his voice sends frissions of desire down her spine. "So much."

A little moan curls in the back of her throat. He's already so good at this, knows exactly how to touch her. Such a quick study, his fingers working at her just how she likes. He shifts his touch up to her clit. Her whole body jerks when his fingers brush it. He grins and presses, swirls his thumb in relentless circles. 

“ _Jasper_ ,” she says, strained. The heat burning under her skin coils tight. She reaches down and guides his fingers deeper, curling them so she can grind down hard against his palm. 

Finishing isn't going to take long. Not with his expert touch, not with her already wound so tight. She leans forward, tilting her hips to try and get as much pressure as possible. 

"That's it," he encourages, mouth at her ear. His register has dipped, dragging, deep and inhuman, from his chest. 

Her pleasure begins to crest. Her mouth opens, the edge of a fang gazing the hinge of his jaw. The temptation to bite is so strong her teeth ache. His head tips to the side, throat bared as if he’s offering, even though they both know she’s not hungry. There's no need for it. 

And, yet. 

She digs her nails in a little, at the back of his neck. He’s both tense and pliant beneath her. Anticipatory. 

The Beast whispers in her head— _take_ him—but she can barely hear it over the blood rushing in her ears, over Jasper’s growling rasps. 

“It’s okay,” he manages, voice thready. “It’s okay. You can, if you want to.” 

She does; she _does_ want to. She wants every piece of him. He would let her. 

That’s enough to bring her to her senses. He would let her, without hesitation, without compunction. She uses all of her will to bring her lips together over her fangs, seal them tight. She instead presses a kiss to where the flutter of his pulse would be as her pleasure reaches its peak, muscles pulling tight. 

It comes second only to the blinding ecstasy of when Jasper feeds on her, but the slow burn of this gratification is good, too. It's human and real and, _oh_ , she loves him so much it scares her. She trembles apart, face hidden against his neck as the wave of heat sweeps over her.

He moves his hands to her hips, his cool touch bleeding through the material. Her limbs are slack, her full weight resting against him. "You...okay?" he asks, unsure. 

"Yeah." She nods, pushing up against his chest, satisfaction buzzing in her veins. Her heartbeat begins to slow. 

“If that’s what it’s like when you’re mad at me..." he trails off with a grin. 

“Don’t push your luck,” she says sternly, but can’t quite smother the lazy smile that slips across her mouth. She winds her arms around his neck. "Take me to bed?" 

He sighs with pretend irritation and stands, lifting her with almost no effort. "What was this about not using me?" he asks, but softens it with a kiss to her hair. 

"You're just so strong," she murmurs, nuzzling. He barks out a scratchy laugh. The fade of climax has left her languid and she can feel dawn nearly upon them, a bone deep lethargy no Kindred can escape. 

He carries her from the library to the bedroom. She distantly notes that the halls have rearranged themselves at some point. He sets her on the bed and she reluctantly lets her arms slip from his neck so he can stand. 

Her heart falters to a stop as the Blush fades, leaving her unbreathing and cold. The distant chill of Jasper's haven vanishes as her temperature drops. She always expects the transition back to undeath to feel worse, but it doesn't. It doesn't really feel like anything. Any absence of sensation is erased by Jasper's mouth finding hers once again. She kisses him anew, humming happily into the contact, and begins unzipping his hoodie, pushing it off of his shoulders to pool on the ground. 

His hands fall to her skirt once more. He gathers the material in his hands and lifts her dress over her head, leaving her in her white chemise. It forces her to break from his mouth but she swiftly reclaims it. 

"I'll hang it up tomorrow," she tells him preventatively, separating from him just enough to speak, lips brushing his with every word. 

"It will wrinkle." It's adorable, his concern, but she'd really rather have him under the covers with her. 

"I have more." She tugs at him. "Bed," she insists. 

"I love this dress," he reminds her and disobeys, stepping back around to the closet. She huffs at him as he hangs up the dress, a bright flash of scarlet amongst the rest of their monochromatic shirts and skirts. 

She uses the time to pull back the covers and get in bed, waiting for him to join her. The mattress dips with his weight as he slips in beside her. She takes a moment to rearrange their limbs until she's satisfied. 

"Comfortable?" he asks, amused, when she finally settles, curled up against the hollows of his body, her hands at his ribs. In her more whimsical moments, it almost feels like the empty places he creates just by the nature of his frame was meant for her. An Eva sized space for her to slip into. 

"Yes." She releases an easy sigh. 

"I really am sorry about tonight, about the gargoyle," he whispers. "I didn't see another option."

"I know." She touches his cheek, brushing the hard edge of his cheekbone. "I don't want you putting yourself in danger for me. I can defend myself. You know this." She cradles his face. “I won’t lose you, Jasper. I won’t.”

“You can’t guarantee that,” he says, the words soft and painful. He presses a kiss to her palm. “You know you can’t.” 

She considers—briefly, horribly— _keeping_ him safe, locking him away where Strauss would never find him, but she immediately and violently dismisses the thought. She won’t commit the same offenses that Katya did. In apology for even imagining it, her next kiss is feather soft. She lingers there, in the scant space between them, noses brushing. 

“Then we'll go together.” This, she can promise. 

He pulls back. “Eva,” he tries to protest, fear in his eyes. 

She shakes her head, unwilling to recant. She vows it to herself, someplace dark and deep, and cages it behind her ribs, next to her heart. 

"Don't- don't say that. I'm not-" he cuts himself off, pained. 

"You are." She holds his gaze. "For me, you are." 

He presses his forehead to hers, cradles her close, shuddering with emotion. They haven't said the words, yet...but they both know. Her eyes flutter closed. She's unable to keep them open a moment longer. Jasper quiets. Stills. 

Somewhere, outside, dawn breaks over the horizon. Underneath the Los Angeles River, two Kindred sleep, tangled up in each other's embrace. 

**Author's Note:**

> first time writing for this fandom so feel free to smash that kudos button. :p


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